Of Tenacity and Bathtubs
by Jilliegoat
Summary: A short little diddy about why you don't cross a Flashblade... (Contains some strong language, but just a little bit)


Disclaimer: Fill in the blank. You know the drill  
  
A/N: Here's a little something for your enjoyment I cooked up in Study Hall the other day.  
  
Of Tenacity and Bathtubs  
  
By boredfan  
  
I slowly drifted back into consciousness the following day. I doubted it was morning. I was still half asleep but the pain was coming in loud and clear. I pushed myself way past my limit for the game last night, but I wasn't sure it was worth it. I'm addicted to winning, I love how it feels. The moment the buzzer sounds and you know you've won, looking up at the Megatron and seeing you victory in the bright yellow lights of the final score of seven to zero. It all rocks to every extent until the morning after and you can barely move. You just want to sleep it off, wait it out, make your shoulder stop throbbing and every muscle, even your tongue, stop aching. But you still have a three hour practice in ten minutes.  
  
I was curled up in my bed, holding my pillow and thinking about how good a backrub would feel and how many limbs I'd gladly chew off to get one when I heard my door hiss open. 'Fuck.' I moaned inwardly. 'Just need a sock, just need a sock...' I chanted in my head. But he was coming for me.  
  
"Dive, c'mon, time to get up," he said in my ear, patting my back to ensure my rest was interrupted.  
  
"No," I grumbled, "Too sore." I buried my face further into my pillow.  
  
"Nosedive, get up," the gentle tone was gone out of his voice. I figured I had about five more minutes of lying there fighting with him.  
  
"Wing, I can barely move," I pleaded, "Just one day can we go without practice, please?" I know it was useless, and I'd eventually get up and go to practice, but it was worth the effort to lie there for a few extra minutes.  
  
"You'll be fine once you get going, and if you're really that bad, you can go to the infirmary."  
  
" 'S not that serious, just needs a little R 'n' R, no big," I said. He just sighed and threw my covers off me. The cold air was a shock to my system. I couldn't help but shiver and curl up tighter with my pillow. Sure, I was cold now, but I wasn't skating laps. 'Things could be worse,' I thought.  
  
"Alright, Nosedive, for the last time, let's go!" He ordered. I really hate that. I just groaned a little and hid my head under my pillow.  
  
"Okay, fine, have it your way, but I warned you," he said, leaving the room and walking into the bathroom. From then on, I paid him no attention.  
  
'I won!' I thought. 'Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Score one for the Dive-man!'  
  
I continued congratulating myself and inwardly complained about my sore body as I reached for my blankets and settled back down for a few more hours of sleep. Or so I'd planned...  
  
A few minutes later, I heard someone enter again. I wondered who it was and what they wanted, but I didn't bother to look up. I really didn't need to.  
  
All of a sudden, I felt my covers once again yanked off me and quickly followed by my pillow. I moaned in frustration, little did I know it would be the least of my concerns.  
  
"Don't say I didn't warn you," reminded the voice above me, Wildwing again.  
  
To my surprise, and utter confusion, he lifted me off my now bare bed and over his shoulder I went.  
  
"Huh? Whaddya think yer doin'?" I yawned.  
  
It still hadn't registered in my mind what he was about to do with me. Even after all that, I wasn't fully awake. I just hung there over his shoulder like a towel or something, trying to conceive what he could possibly be thinking of doing. He carried me into the bathroom and only when I saw the bathtub full of water did I figure it out. My eyes widened and I struggled for dear dignity to get away.  
  
"Okay, I'm awake, joke's over,' I said while squirming, but it was no use, I couldn't get away with his arm now around my waist holding me down. I couldn't even get a full breath lying on my stomach over his shoulder that way.  
  
He just ignored me; I knew there would be no mercy for me this late in the game. He took me off his shoulder and into his arms over the bathtub. He smiled evilly.  
  
"Please, Wing, seriously, I'm awake now!" I begged.  
  
"I'd like to believe that." 'No you wouldn't, you evil sadistic bastard,' I thought scornfully.  
  
With that, he dropped me into the water, boxers in all, and believe you me, it was COLD! I was completely submerged in the freezing water for five excruciating seconds before I could get to the surface, coughing, shrieking and gasping for air. He stood over me the whole time with his arms crossed over his chest grinning down at me.  
  
"I h-h-hate y-you." I managed out, my entire body shaking.  
  
"You brought it on yourself," he said in that annoying sing-song, I told- you-so tone. Bastard.  
  
"Y-you l-left th-that p-part out wh-when you w-w-warned me. I w-would have g-gotten u-up." I probably wouldn't have, but that's beside the point.  
  
"What, and rob myself of this moment?" He chuckled, "Now get up and changed, we're waiting on you." He snickered to himself as we walked out of the room. It wasn't funny, it was just plain mean.  
  
Well, that little incident yesterday deserved some punishment; it was a good thing I decided to put his athletic cup on a bag of ice in a cooler in his locker last night. Why? Just for the sheer sport of it, of course. Don't mess with the master, my friends, don't mess with the master.  
  
End  
  
I couldn't help myself. Let me know what you think! 


End file.
